The Devil's Brand
by Sarcasma
Summary: Rated for topic: Oliver Wood has to redo a Muggle study assignment on the Underground Railroad in America, having originally mistaken it for an actual railroad. He wants an easier way to figure out exactly what it is, and the request is granted. Please r
1. The Assignment

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters created by the great wonderful sometimes sarcastic Joanne K. Rowling. You know which characters those are, and if you don't you really need to read the books before getting into the fanfic world of Harry Potter. A lot of the plot idea also came from the book 'The Devil's Arithmetic', another great read.

Chapter 1- The Assignment

"Mr. Wood, this is simply unacceptable," Professor McGonagall, a stern looking woman and head of Oliver's house, said.

"I did the assignment," Oliver pointed out as McGonagall handed him the paper that Professor Kilburn (the Muggle studies teacher) had shown her.

"You didn't do the assignment, Mr. Wood. You turned in this nonsense. Completely unprepared and if you can't get a better grade when you redo this, you'll have to forgo the last match of this season," Professor McGonagall said, having spent a good hour talking Kilburn in allowing Oliver to repeat the assignment instead of failing him in the class. McGonagall knew that without Oliver they were doomed to failure in getting the Quidditch cup again, not that they had much of a chance anyway. They had to win by at least sixty points this year, and the slight hope of that happening would slip away with no Keeper and not even two weeks to train another one.

"You can't do that Professor," Oliver pleaded. "A scout from Pudlemere is coming and he wanted to see me in action!"

"I'm sorry Oliver, but those are the school's rules, and Professor Kilburn is being kind enough to allow you to redo the assignment. I suggest you do actual research this time," she said, handing a pile of books over to Oliver.

"But I have to run practice tonight."

"If you don't do this, there will be nothing to practice for."

Oliver was getting upset, and didn't want to make McGonagall angry, knowing he had been wanting to ask her to get extra time on the field for the team, said, "when does he want it by?"

"Friday," McGonagall stated, turning back to the papers on her desk. It was Wednesday, so that gave him only two days. Oliver was about to open his mouth when McGonagall read his mind, "no there will not be an extension. Have it complete, or don't play."

"Yes Professor," Oliver said, before turning around sulkily and leaving McGonagall's office. He walked down the hallway muttering about how unfair some teachers could be, while trying to balance the pile of books in his arms. Not paying attention, he knocked into a young Hufflepuff girl with red hair. They both fell, and all the books scattered around him. She hadn't been holding anything large, but her glitter of sorts was spread all over the place. "Hey! Watch it!"

"Sorry," the girl said kindly, helping Oliver gather his things.

"It's all right I guess, what's with all this?" Oliver asked, referring to the glitter.

"It was my wish powder," she said, a little disappointed. This girl looked no older than a third year.

"Don't worry, it was probably just a hoax," he said, now feeling a bit sorry that he had snapped at the girl.

The girl shrugged, "I suppose," she said and wandered off.

Oliver made the final distance to the common room and provided the Fat Lady with the password (flibbertigibbet) and walked through the entrance and set his pile of books on the table closest to him. "What you get yelled at for this time?" Katie said, jokingly.

"I can't play at the game unless this gets done," he said. Katie and Alicia, who had been giggling over some pictures in a magazine stopped, jaws dropped, and looked at Oliver incredulously.

"You're joking," Alicia said.

"I wish," Oliver said, extracting a quill from his book bag. "I have to get a good grade on this or McGonagall won't let me play. Oh yeah, and practice is cancelled tonight," he added bitterly.

"Okay, well can we do anything to help?" Katie asked.

"Just keep everyone from bothering me," he said.

"All right," Katie said, and the girls held to their word. They informed the rest of the team, that hadn't overheard Oliver already, that practice was cancelled until further notice and made sure everyone stayed clear of the table the entire evening. Night was coming on quickly, but there was no rest for the weary, so Oliver would put it.

Around 9:30 people were just starting to go up to their rooms, but Angelina came to Oliver's table, where there were about six books strewn across the table, open to various incoherent pages. Angelina handed him a cup of tea and sat next to him. "How are things going?" she asked politely.

"Not good, you don't happen to know anything about the Underground Railroad in America do you?"

"No," Angelina said, after trying to rack her brain for any amount of information she knew. "What is this assignment anyway?"

"Muggle studies," he stated as if that answered everything. "Professor Kilburn wanted us to research a historical event of Muggle society in another country. I thought the Underground Railroad would be easy enough. I rode on the one in London once."

"It's not the same thing, though, is it?" Angelina said, catching onto the frustration.

"No," Oliver said. "I just wish there was an easier way to figure it all out, you know? All I'm finding is about people that helped with it, but I don't think I really understand what it is. I read something in one of these about how they didn't keep records incase anyone found them, but why would they be worried about that?"

"Did you think of trying to read any of them from the beginning?" Angelina pointed out, seeing that most of them were open to random pages in the middle.

"No," Oliver admitted lamely. "I just needed the gist of it, but this isn't helping."

"How about this, I'll kick those second years off the couch in front of the fireplace and you start from page one in just one of these books, and you can go from there," she suggested zealously.

Oliver sighed and looked at the many books he had to choose from. "Thanks," he said distracted in the latest task. He picked up one of the books, the one with a faded red cover, and flipped through it, deciding that wasn't the one he wanted. He put it down deciding it wasn't the right one, and picked up a thicker looking one with stiff new pages. As he picked that one up, however, he noticed something in the blue covered book just below it. The pages had become yellow with age, and there were tears in the fabric of the cover. That wasn't what had caught his attention, however. It was the picture on the page that had his eyes glued to the page.

**Oliver Sutton (1841-1859)**

**Conductor in ****South Carolina****; caught in the act and put on trial.**

He read on about this young man, who died at the same age that Oliver was now. He had come from Scotland, and had a brooding look about him. His parents had died when he was fifteen and he left to live with an Uncle in South Carolina, in the Americas. After the journey he had found that his Uncle had passed away before his arrival and left him everything.

What shocked Oliver (Wood that is) the most was how much this young man looked like him. It was almost like looking in a mirror. "Hey look at this Angelina," he said.

Angelina had just shooed off the occupants of the couch, but turned to see what Oliver wanted to show her. "Wicked, he looks just like you. Has your name too," she said.

"Weird though, isn't it," Oliver said.

"Yeah, maybe a bit, but he did come from Scotland. Maybe he's just a distant relative."

"Yeah, maybe," Oliver said. He set that book aside and cleared all the others away, knowing which one to read first. Oliver placed his cup of tea on one the small table to his right and opened to the forward of the book, not wanting to miss anything. His only problem with text books was they automatically seemed to put him to sleep. He wasn't past the first page this time before feeling drowsy, though he had had a long day either way. "Just for a minute," he said, then closed his eyes, spreading his feet across the couch.

* * *

A/N: In case any of you didn't get the 'winning by sixty' inference to year, this is Oliver's seventh and final year, and the trio's third.

Funny story: I was sitting at a DCI (Drum Corps International) competition in Sacramento this weekend when this idea started nagging at me. It was during my little brother's performance with Vanguard band that the idea sprung up and I just thought it throughout the rest of the night, between that and reading 'Lovely Bones', which is a great book, but you must have a strong constitution if you read it. So with all of this chaos going on around me I couldn't think of who to do this with. You'll see later that this is somewhat similar to 'The Devil's Arithmetic' and it had to be just the right character with this particular event.

My roommates suggested many different people, from Crabbe to Susan Bones, to Colin (which I decided against because I already am working with him in one right now), and so on. As I thought about it my mind finally settled between two choices: Ginny or Oliver… I couldn't decide which would be better so I brought JamieBell into the picture. So if you don't like the choice she made, flame her. Just kidding JamieBell, thanks for your help. So there you have it… how this idea was born, and will hopefully be enjoyed like every newborn….thing….should be.


	2. Mary and Mammy

Chapter 2- Mary and Mammy

"Mr. Sutton?" a maid with her dirty blonde hair hidden under her white cap and tightly bound in a bun. "Mr. Sutton, supper is ready," she said, tapping his shoulder.

"What?" Oliver asked, wondering why Angelina couldn't just leave him alone.

"Supper, sir, it's ready for you," the girl of fifteen or sixteen said in a deep southern accent that Oliver was just noticing. "Mammy said to call you, even though I told her you were asleep sir."

Oliver opened his eyes and looked around the room. He lay across a navy blue chaise lounge with cherry wood legs and as accents on the arms and back of the piece of furniture. He looked over his left shoulder and noted the matching wood desk in the corner of the room. Over his right shoulder was a set of bay windows showing a large coast, though he couldn't make it out very well in the dimming light. Oliver looked back at the girl standing in front of him. He looked down at himself and realized how oddly he was dressed. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked back up at the girl. "Who are you?" he asked, becoming a bit concerned. She had an unusual dress on as well, and her waist seemed very small in comparison to most girls.

"Mary Trenton, sir," Mary answered giving him a strange look. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I don't know," Oliver answered. "Where am I?"

"You're in your home, Mr. Sutton."

"Um," Oliver started to wonder if this was a dream, but he figured he could find out information anyway. "Exactly where is that?"

"Just outside of the heart of Charleston; did you want some coffee sir?"

"Americans and coffee," Oliver said, forgetting for the moment the situation he found himself in.

Mary smiled, "Now you're sounding like yourself. Some tea then?"

Oliver took a deep breath figuring this had to be a dream and that he would probably wake from it before the beverage came. "Please, Mary that would be wonderful," he said. The girl nodded and left the room. Oliver noticed that she was a bit clumsy on her feet, but this didn't bother him. When she was out of the room, Oliver laid back down on the chaise lounge and closed his eyes, expecting them to open again to a red common room, dressed in his school robes instead of this loose white shirt and brown trousers. Five minutes later there was a crash in the hall and Oliver opened his eyes to the same softly lit room with a view of the shore.

"You clumsy girl, get back to the kitchens and be of some help," a rough man's voice came from the hall.

"Sorry, sir," Mary said, her voice becoming upset. Oliver got up and went toward the door as the man began to reprimand again.

"Get up, girl! Look at what you've done to my shirt!" he shouted while grabbing the frightened Mary by the collar of her dress and pulling her just inches away from his face.

"That'll be nothing to what I'll do to you next," Oliver said. If there was anything his mother had taught him, it was how to respect women, even if he didn't find it applied during a Quidditch game. "Let go of her," Oliver said severely. The man released Mary from his grasp.

"Sir, you need to hire yourself a better maid to take care of things before you have tea and glass scattered all over you house," he said. Oliver observed that this man too had a strong Southern American accent.

"Who are you to tell me who to hire," Oliver asked, playing along with whatever was going on for now.

"I'm the advisor that your Uncle has used for the past five years, and you would do well to remember what he has done for you, Mr. Sutton," the older man said with distain.

"I'll remember what he did for me, you can be sure of that, but you are not him and you may leave my home now," Oliver said. He was never one to let people beat him at anything.

"Excuse me sir, but-"

"But nothing, Sir, leave," Oliver said, then leaned down to help the frazzled Mary with the broken pieces of glass.

"Good day," the man said, then turned around and left, muttering insults under his breath.

"Are you all right?" Oliver asked Mary, placing some pieces on the tray.

Mary simply nodded, tears filling her eyes. She looked up at Oliver, "Please don't fire me Mr. Sutton, I'll try to do better, and my ma is sick and Dad can't find work. I'll pay for Mr. Adler's shirt."

"What?" Oliver said, everything finally striking him at once. He was still in this strange place, with people he didn't know, and fear came quickly upon his face, draining it of color.

"Please don't fire me," Mary begged again, not seeing the change in Oliver.

"I-I won't," he said, hoping it would stop her from crying. It worked, though it took her a moment to calm down entirely. When Mary wiped her eyes for the final time and gave Oliver a faint smile and stood, taking the tray with her. "I'll get it," Oliver said, standing and taking it from Mary.

"It's all right, I can get it," she protested.

"No, I insist. I want to, uh, see what's going on in the kitchen," Oliver said, starting to make his way down the hall with the tray in his hands. He turned back, "where is the kitchen again?"

"Down the hall and the last door on the left," Mary said, thinking it an odd question, but not letting it bother her.

Oliver walked down and heard humming growing louder as he went toward the kitchen. He pushed against the door carefully, hoping he wasn't disturbing anyone. "Hello," he said.

A medium set black woman stopped humming her song and turned around, pursing her lips at Oliver. "Mr. Sutton, don' you come in here and try to scare me like dat." She grabbed the tray from Oliver, who was frozen where he stood not knowing what to make of this. At least Mary had a way to ease him into all of this. "Now why don' you just sit at the table and eat yo' supper."

"All right," Oliver managed to get out. He went out the door the woman had pointed out, now developing a headache. He entered into a large dining room with a long table, with enough places for nearly half of Gryffindor house. The room, unlike every other whitewashed room he had seen so far, actually had painted walls; forest green up to a cherry chair rail and a lighter more subdued blue above the wood. _My…this Uncle must have like Cherry wood_, Oliver thought, still hoping that this dream would end soon. Hanging down from the ceiling was a large crystal chandler.

Oliver sat at the head of the table facing the kitchen just as the lady came out to from the kitchen and set a plate of food in front of him. He looked at it oddly for a minute. "Well, on wid it den," she said, forcefully. "Dem grits ain't gone jump in your mouth by dem selves."

"Are you going to eat too?" he asked.

"I'll be takin' my food in de kitchens, likes I do every night, Mr. Sutton and dere ain't no changin' my mind, so don' you be tryin'."

Oliver didn't argue with her, instead he started poking his fork into some of the foreign food. The mashed potatoes looked familiar, and the middle thing looked like some sort of chicken, so the bit to the right must be what the lady called grites, or gits, or something like it. Mary came into the room a minute later with a pitcher in hand. "Careful with dat," the lady said to Mary.

"Yes Ma'am," she said, turning carefully and walking very slowly toward Oliver. She poured him a glass of what looked like some kind of juice.

"Thank you Mary," Oliver said as she lifted the pitcher back up.

Mary blushed lightly. "You're welcome, sir," she said, and turned to leave.

"Have you eaten?" he asked, not liking the silence in the large room. She turned back around.

"No Mr. Sutton. I was going to eat in the kitchens with Mammy," Mary replied.

_Mammy_, Oliver's brain registered. "Okay," he said, and Mary left the dining room.

When Oliver was finished- which wasn't very long since he found grits to be to his liking along with the other food that had adorned his plate- Mammy came in and took the dirty plate. "Young Sir has an appetite tonight," she exclaimed. "Would you be reading in yo' study tonight?"

"No, I think I'll hit the sack," Oliver said, putting his napkin on the table, which Mammy picked up.

"Hittin' what sack, Mr. Sutton," Mammy asked.

"Uh, going to bed early," Oliver recovered quickly.

"A'right, Mr. Sutton. Mary turned down your bed this mornin' for de first time, so you tell me if'n dere be anything wrong."

"Yes Mammy," Oliver said, hoping he could find the bedroom on his own. He went from room to room, praying not to run into anyone along the way, until he came to a room with a large brass bed and a colorful quilt, with all sorts of greens and yellows and reds within it. He started to undress, layer after layer after layer, until he was left in drawers, which went down to his ankles, and a loose shirt. It was humid and hot here and Oliver wondered if there was anything cooler to sleep in. When he looked through all of the drawers in the armoire sitting to the right of the bed, he ripped the fabric on the drawers from the knees down off and took the shirt off. He folded them neatly at the end of the bed, along with his brown pants, stockings, and a cravat; though he wouldn't have been able to name some of the articles of clothing.

Oliver crawled into bed, turned onto his side and fell sound asleep, pictures of Quaffles passing from Chaser to Chaser toward the opponent's hoops. He would stop them should they ever get near enough, but on Oliver's perfect team, they rarely did.

* * *

A/N: Okay, what are you peps thinking about this story? I feel bad for Oliver, but at the same time I kind of think it's funny, him being all confused and such. There isn't much going to happen until probably chapter 4 at the earliest, but it might start up next chapter, even if Oliver doesn't know what's going on. Hope you all enjoyed it!


	3. Auction

Chapter 3- Auction

Sometime in the night, Oliver had kicked off his covers because of the heat. "Oh, Lordy," Mary said in shock and dropped the platter which crashed to the ground waking Oliver. He was startled at first, but quickly jumped up and threw the pants he had folded on. "Sorry, sir, I thought you would be awake by now," Mary exclaimed, keeping her eyes to the ground, concentrating on cleaning up the mess. Oliver buttoned the top of the trousers, and went to help Mary.

"Sorry if I startled you," he said, not understanding why her face was completely red. The cotton shorts he had created were far more modest than what he usually wore to bed.

"No, I-I'm sorry, sir," she said, picking up the pieces of a blue and white tea cup. "Ouch," she said, having cut herself on a small sliver from the cup.

"Oh, let me see," Oliver said, reaching for Mary's hand. It was bleeding, though not too bad, and he took the piece of glass from the cut. She blushed the entire time, not saying a word to this half naked man in front of her.

"Thank you," Mary said, still looking down and pulling her hand back.

"You're welcome," Oliver said, with a smile that Mary didn't see since she was getting back to the mess of eggs and bacon on the wood floor. As she stood up, Oliver's senses came back and he realized where he was, well he realized that he wasn't at Hogwarts. "Er- Mary?"

"Yes?" Mary asked, turning back around and going red in the face again.

"Er- I was just wondering what year it is," he asked, understanding Mary would probably think him daft.

"1858, sir," Mary answered and then walked quickly to the kitchens.

Oliver went back into his room, and tried to remember how the clothes were supposed to be placed in this time. He contemplated on how he ended up here; it wasn't completely unusual for a wizard to time travel, but usually you knew why you went back and where you were going back. Here he was in 1859, outside a place called Charleston, which rung a bell for some reason, and was around all these people with South American accents. That's what made it finally click for Oliver. He must be in America, somehow… but that didn't make sense. He started to pace in the study.

"Sir," Mary said from the doorway, and Oliver turned. "Mr. Elton is here to see you."

"All right, where is he?"

"Mr. Elton is waiting for you in the parlor," Mary informed him, then turned and walked back toward the kitchens.

Oliver took a deep breath, hoping this Mr. Elton wouldn't be as bad as the other man who was there the day before. He walked into the room and saw a man of great stature. He had Brown hair, with a glint of red in it, and his hair was slicked back neatly. The man turned around and smiled slightly. "Good day, friend," the man said, though he had what Oliver considered a regular American accent.

"Good day," Oliver said. Apparently he was supposed to know this man well. "How are you today Mr. Elton?" Oliver asked, trying to sound important and dignified. It didn't work well, but Mr. Elton bought it anyway.

"It's just us, you can call me Henry," Mr. Elton told him. It was a great relief that this man's first name was revealed to him. "I heard you let Brian Adler go," he said.

_Adler?_ Oliver thought. _Right, _"Yes, I did. He was mistreating Mary," Oliver said.

"I understand that, but what have I told you about that? Keep your friends close, and-" Henry said, obviously waiting for Oliver to finish. When Oliver didn't complete the phrase, Henry did so, "your enemies closer. You really needed to consult me about that Oliver, especially with what's been happening."

"What do you mean?"

"With John Brown and all his talk of using the Virginia mountains. Then you have the Fugitive act of 1850," Henry said, sitting in one of the chairs, crossing his right ankle across his left knee. "Really ought to be considered the Inhumane act of 1850," he added. Oliver was about to ask what he meant, but Mary came in with a fresh tray of tea.

"Good day, Mr. Elton," Mary said with a small curtsy.

"Good day to you too, Mary. How is your mother?"

"Doing as well as we can hope," Mary answered with a thin smile.

"Good, very good. Send my regards?"

"Always," Mary said, blushing a bit as she walked back out the door.

"She's a good girl," Henry said with a nod, grabbing one of the cups and pouring himself some tea, adding two cubes of sugar. "Too bad you don't serve coffee here," he made mention while making himself comfortable again.

"What exactly is the Fugitive act?" Oliver inquired, wanting to get caught up in what was happening.

"It's the law that states if someone's slave goes north for refuge they must be returned to their owner, even if that state is considered free. Pain in the neck for us now, right?" he said, taking another sip of tea.

"Why is that?"

"Because now we either have to get the slaves to Canada, or even harder, past Kansas. It's not right the way they're treated," Henry said. "That reminds me, I was going to auction today in hopes to get some, uh, Merchandise, so if you'd like to come along, maybe you'll find someone there to help."

Oliver nodded, having heard about auctions, but didn't know how that might help people if he were buying things for himself. _Maybe it's for Charity_, he thought.

"There's a shipment coming in the middle of next week, by the way. I'm having a party for distraction, if you can hide them out here," Henry mentioned.

Oliver had been taking a sip of tea, and almost spit it out. "Them?"

"You know what I mean, Oliver, but good at showing me your straight face," Henry said. This man was years older than Oliver. "They'll be coming just after nightfall."

"Do Mammy and Mary know?" Oliver asked, trying to keep his cool while at the same time trying to figure out what Henry was talking about.

"No, and I've told you not to tell them. I understand that you don't like lying to them, but that's the way it has to be, unless you want to put their lives on the line as well," Henry said.

"Why would their lives be on the line?" Oliver asked seriously.

"I've told you to take this seriously," Henry reprimanded softly. "If they find out that we've joined the railroad, more than our lives are on the line. I would suggest using the space behind the bookcase, since there will only be a few of them."

"All right," Oliver said. _Railroad? Did I, or whoever he thinks I am order something?_ This all sounded fairly familiar, but he didn't know how.

"Good, now that that's taken care of, I'll let you get ready for the auction, and I'll be back in one hour to get you."

"Okay," Oliver said, wondering what was wrong with his appearance that made him unsuitable.

Henry grabbed his hat, which had been sitting with a lamp on a small table, and started heading out the door. Oliver followed him, not knowing what would be considered protocol here. When they got to the porch Mammy was sweeping. "Go' day, Mista Elton," Mammy said with a warm smile.

"Good day, Mammy," he responded. "How's the southern princess?"

"Oh, don' you go tryin' to flatter me wit yo' Northern charm none," Mammy retorted waving him off.

"Yes, Mammy," Henry said, charmingly taking his hat off and sweeping in a debonair bow. Mammy rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue at him.

"Off, off wit you!" Mammy said, and Henry chuckled as he went to his cart to go back to his house.

One hour later Henry came by as promised, and Mammy had Oliver all ready. "Neve' seen a man wit so little care for how he looks," was something she said over and over while taking out which suit he was to wear, and slicking his hair back, and making put on gloves.

Oliver didn't know how he was going to survive the afternoon in this heat with the layers of clothes on, but he was determined to do so. He had been under worse conditions in Quidditch, and he was certain to get through this… he thought he could at least.

Oliver was offered a hand by Henry while Mammy and Mary sat on the porch. "Aren't they coming with?" Oliver asked.

"This is no place for them to be going," Henry stated in disbelief that he would even suggest such a thing. They rode to the auction in almost perfect silence. When they were close enough, Henry gave one last warning, "don't lose your head here, no matter what. I know that you've been here before, but I'm always afraid you might make yourself suspicious."

"What do you mean?"

"I just mean be careful what you do and say," Henry said, halting the horses in front of a man, a black man, ready to take them to a stable. Oliver followed Henry until they got to several cells, all full of black people, looking scared or trying to look untouchable with strength.

"What are they doing in there?" Oliver asked.

"New procedure, something they've been doing further south and Charleston is just starting to pick up on it. Seeing them in groups so that people get the idea that they want more than one."

Oliver wasn't entirely sure what he meant. He had heard that Americans had, at one point, used Africans to do their work, but he had no idea to the extent of torture that he saw, and that he would see soon.

"We're about to start, so everyone gather around," the bald auctioneer said, and everyone followed. There were a few women in the crowd, their large hoop skirts taking up a lot of room. They were all holding smelling salts close at hand, and their husbands or beaus offered their arms to the ladies. "Good afternoon," the auctioneer said with an air of excitement. "Today we're going to start with a good specimen, a male, twenty-five years of age, this would only be his second home."

Oliver looked around at the nods of agreement toward the black man they were bringing up to the platform. He stood tall next to the short and round auctioneer, and had his arms chained to one another. One of the workers, a middle aged man with a whip in his left hand, came from behind and ripped the shirt off the man's back, leaving Oliver in shock. A few men went up to the platform, and started looking carefully at the build of the man, feeling his biceps. Next they left the man in nothing but a loin cloth as he was looked at again. Some of the men looked at his teeth, though the man tried to jerk back then.

Oliver then witnessed the amount being bid on the man, only a few years older than him raise, though it ended around thirty dollars and two bits. Even though Oliver didn't know exactly how much that was, he understood it wasn't what any human life was worth. Anger flooded through him as they took him away and brought up a girl of fifteen, and started the routine again.

When the man ripped off the girl's shirt, and she tried to cover herself, Oliver's jaw clenched, and he took a step forward, only to be stopped by Henry. "Why are you stopping me?" Oliver hissed.

"This isn't the time," Henry said. "If you want to help, this isn't the time," he articulated, trying to keep others around him from noticing.

Oliver jerked his arm away, and turned, walking boldly from the situation. He was determined to find someone to stop this madness, this insanity, this inhumanity. He was walking down the dirt road for nearly an hour before Henry came by with his wagon. He went slower, matching Oliver's pace. "Stop being a fool," Henry said.

Oliver had seen that the young black girl, whose inspection he had left during, was in the back of Henry's wagon. "I won't associate with any Slave Traders!" Oliver said loudly. Henry was glad no one was around to hear that.

"I don't know what's wrong with you, but get in the wagon and I'll answer for your concerns," Henry said. Oliver looked up at him warily, but got up into the seat.

"I thought you were against this," Oliver said angrily referring to the girl in the back.

Henry looked around to make sure no one was anywhere nearby. "I am, you know that better than anyone. This is Karla's girl," Henry answered. "I heard about her being on the auction block, and hoped to get her, and I did."

"Why did you let them humiliate her then?" Oliver said, not knowing who Karla was, but he didn't care at this point either.

"I've told you that we have to play their game. Luckily I was able to turn your little scuff back there to our advantage. They now think we're fighting and that gives you an excuse not to be at the party," Henry filled in Oliver.

"What exactly will I be doing?" Oliver asked.

"There's a small family coming, they have a baby so make sure you're ready for that," Henry said.

_I can use a silencing charm_, Oliver thought, before remembering that he didn't have his wand.

"Don't get caught, because you know what that'll mean for you and the family," Henry said, not knowing how little Oliver understood.

"What exactly would happen?" Oliver asked after a few moment of silence.

"Don't do this to me now."

"No, really, c-could you just er, humor me?" Oliver asked, trying to sound casual between the anger from the auction he had witnessed, and having a hard time understanding what was really going on here.

"Well, they'll get the Devil's Brand-"

"What's that?"

"You know, the brand of their owner."

"The devil owns them?"

"Might as well," Henry said with real bitterness in his voice. "The way some of them are treated they might as well be in hell."

"Why are you buying any then?"

"For the same reason your uncle bought Mammy, rest his soul."

"Why?" Oliver persisted.

Henry seemed to finally be in a stage of wanting to talk about all of this in the open. "So we can buy their papers for them to have liberty. We always tried to do this as much as possible. Of course you know not to go telling people Mammy has her papers. Better that they think we believe in the same values they do."

"Why would anyone have those values though?"

"Who knows? Selfishness, I suppose. They like to think they're better than their slaves, but their not."

"What's the Underground Railroad?" Oliver asked. Henry gave Oliver a look of disbelief.

"Funny, really funny," he said. "How are you back there?" Henry asked the girl in the back, who was wrapping herself tightly in a cotton sheet Henry had brought, knowing her clothes would be very shabby, if intact. The girl nodded.

Oliver had hoped that getting the question answered might allow him to go back to Hogwarts, but Henry didn't seem too keen on answering that question.

* * *

A/N: These chapters might become few and far between for the pure fact that they are very hard to write because I find that period of history in America absolutely… I can't even think of a word so horrible to describe the events of that day and age. I find the culture very interesting, and I'm going to try focusing on what good was being done to stop this (which if you haven't been able to tell Oliver is one of the Conductors of that, though he doesn't quite get that yet). Please be patient, but I'll try to keep up on this one with my many others.

Thank you:

Miss Lady Padfoot: This won't involve the others as much as you think, but I hope it's still worth reading. I love those small characters too! They're so much fun!

Arendi Star: Here's more... as I said I'm going to try keeping up with it, but I'm finding it very difficult to wade through the emotions of this one takes a deep breath

JamieBell: I'm glad you like this story because you know your opinion is a big factor with everything I write =)

Kitchen Ballerina: Hope you keep liking this, and I know how you feel with not being able to express exactly how you feel on a piece.


	4. Oliver's Part

Chapter 4- Oliver's Part

Late in the afternoon the Wednesday, five days after the auction, Oliver was pacing the parlor. Apparently he had only done this before once… or at least the Oliver everyone else knew had done this once, so Henry explained things, and showed Oliver the trap door and how to work the false bottom on the carriage he was supposed to take the runaways about five miles up the coast the next day.

"Mr. Sutton?" Mary asked from the hallway. Oliver stood to see her framed by the doorway, though she wasn't in her usual black and white serving outfit. Mary wore a gown that spread out far, much like the ones the ladies at the auction had worn, only with more frills. It was sea foam in color with white ribbons and lace. She was wearing her hair in full ringlets and pinned up nicely.

"Y-yes?" Oliver said, shocked by her simple beauty.

"I know you aren't on talking terms with Mr. Elton, but I wanted to know if I could still go to his dinner party?" Mary stumbled through the wish, her eyes filled with hope. "Mammy said I should just go, but I wanted to be sure that wouldn't make you angry with me."

"I wouldn't be angry with you," Oliver said. "I… yes, of course you can go."

Mary became very excited. "Thank you Mr. Sutton!" she said, grabbing Oliver's hands in hers and standing on her tiptoes to give Oliver a kiss on the cheek.

Oliver let a smile play on his face, "just call me Oliver," he said.

"Thank you Oliver!" she said, then turned and left the parlor, leaving Oliver to pace over his current situation again.

People would be coming here soon, and they would need to be hidden properly. The baby would need to be fed and cared for in anyway to make it sleep. There was a lot at risk here, and Oliver felt like he only knew the half of it. Mammy stayed in her own quarters at night, which is something Oliver was starting to find as routine, and it was planned for Mary to go to the party, since she liked to read in the study as long as Oliver would let her. It would seem too suspicious for him to say 'no' when he always let her any other time.

Sometimes on weekends Mary would go home and visit her family, but it took half a day's journey just to get there, so she had her own room in the house as well. _Too bad we can't travel by_… Oliver tried to remember what he had traveled on, but his memory seemed to be deceiving him because for some reason he was thinking about riding on a broomstick. _That's ridiculous,_ he thought, shaking his head at his wild imagination. He was able to laugh at himself before turning his mind to the task at hand.

He went by the window and looked for the flash of light; the signal that he would need to be prepared for the runaways. He had looked out for it for the last half an hour, even though they weren't supposed to be coming until after dark, and the sun had just begun to set. Oliver still looked out the window and saw a fancy black carriage pull up to the front. He didn't bother seeing what it was doing there, figuring that it was the Keatons, Oliver Sutton's neighbors, to pick up Mary. They had a daughter, Susan, who was the same age, and a son, Trevor, who happened to be four years her senior.

Oliver didn't know what was running through him, but he suddenly hatred toward their son, even though they had never met before. He shook the feeling away and was once again brought back to what he would have to do within the next twenty-four hours. He didn't know exactly what to expect and he feared getting caught. The people he was helping would get hurt, and probably end up back where they were, but he would more than likely be killed or put into prison. He wondered what would happen then. Would he be stuck here forever? Would he cease to exist? What about his parents? Oliver tried to imagine his mum and what she would think if he didn't come back.

What would the… _what kind of team was it?_ He wondered, only remembering that he was Captain of it and how much it meant to him, though he couldn't remember why it had meant so much. Things had been steadily slipping from his mind, but he figured those bit weren't so important, as long as he remembered that he was Oliver Wood and that he had to get back to school with at least the information of what the Underground Railroad was. He had to figure it out so that he could get back.

Oliver sat on the settee and picked up the closest newspaper and started to read what was going on in this world. There was some big election going on, and dispute between the northern and the southern states. War was being discussed, and he found out that eight years prior there had been a law passed that runaway slaves that were found in the states that considered themselves free had to be returned to their Plantation owners.

That day's paper didn't have anything of importance. A little article on homesteading in the west and different advertisements for headache powders or a fabric sale; nothing that seemed to effect him in any way. The thing he hadn't figured out is how much everything effected everyone at this time. Even the smallest outbreak between neighbors meant something. The fact that Maryland, though affiliated with the free states, had leanings toward slavery, and what that would mean later for the families all around him.

It was an hour more of constant looking for the sign before it came. Oliver almost leaped, like his heart, when he saw the signal. A light flashed from the nearby farm house where the runaway slaves were now leaving to come here, into his home. Oliver wondered if he had what it took to do this and if he could handle the nerves running through him. _This is the only one_, he told himself, realizing how hard this would be if he had to do it over and over. As Oliver waited for them to get there he planned what he would tell Henry and how to break the news that he wouldn't be a part of whatever chaos this was.

There was a light knock on the front door. "I'se a get it," Mammy shouted loudly from her room.

"No, you stay I'll get it," Oliver shouted out, hoping he didn't sound to anxious about it.

"All right," Mammy said, going back to whatever she usually kept herself with.

Oliver opened the door cautiously, as if some huge monster was behind it. There were two people, both having their heads covered with hoods, one that was a few inches taller than him. The taller personage had his arm around the shoulder of a woman almost a head taller than Oliver. She had a small child in her hands. Oliver was relieved to find that the baby was already asleep. "This way," Oliver said, leading them quickly to his study. He opened the door to the hideaway behind the bookcases. "Right back here," he said allowing them to go in there. They both took off their hoods and turned around.

"Than' you," the man said, though Oliver's eyes were glued on the woman.

An image of a girl his age handing him a cup of tea ran through his mind, and the same girl congratulating him on a good game. She looked just like the woman in front of him, but then he realized the woman in front of him was around his age.

"Angelina?" Oliver got out through his shock.

"Yes sir," Angelina said, wondering how this stranger knew her name.

"T-that's your child?" he asked. The man looked old enough to be a father, but something in him couldn't imagine this scenario for Angelina at this age.

"Yes sir," Angelina answered.

There was something different here. _Her voice_, Oliver thought, remembering the usually cadence and accent to the way Angelina talked.

"You… Have you ever tried to leave before?" Oliver asked, directing his questions still at Angelina.

"Yes sir," she said again. "Befo' Hope was born."

"What happened?" Oliver asked.

Angelina's eyes started welling up with tears as she shifted the baby into her left arm and lifted her shabby shirt slightly to show an area of skin on her lower back. She had revealed two burn scars, both with different symbols encircled indicating two different owners. The one to the right still looked fairly fresh, as if it had been received within the prior year. Angelina held up the shirt for a moment, but let it down once Oliver had had a good look at the horrific marks.

Oliver snapped back to what Henry had told him to do. "If you need anything, pull on this string and I will hear the bell from my room. There are some blankets in the cupboard right behind you and the water in the pitcher is fresh. I'm sure you know about the bed pan, and, as I said before, anything else you find yourselves in need of, just ring."

"Thank you sir," the man said, putting his arms around Angelina again.

She started to turn into the man, and Oliver was about to leave, but quickly put a hand on Angelina's arm, "I'm sorry," he said, then left to his room as fast as was possible.

When he got into the room he sat on the edge of the bed, put his elbows on his knees, and put his hands together. "God help them please," he repeated over and over. "Please, they need it more than anyone, help Angelina and her family make it to safety…" He prayed like this for nearly half an hour, sobbing into his hands at the same time. "I'll do my part," he promised in his prayer. "I'll do my part…"

* * *

A/N: I'm almost in tears. You have to understand that even though I'm some white girl, I really have a lot of sympathy for situations like this, and tend to get really emotional over the subjects. I've really tried to put myself into Oliver's shoes in this one. I think it was a real sacrifice for the people who helped, and that's the perspective I took. Hopefully you now all know why this had to be between Ginny and Oliver… if I had used Ginny I probably would have had this same scene with Angelina, and I had been thinking it would have been interesting if Dean had been a server in her house, but I ended up using Oliver.

I had also considered there being some relationship between Angelina and Oliver, but decided against it since there is enough controversy in the situation without adding a multiracial relationship taking place in that time. I do think that pairing is a good one, so don't think it's a personal preference. There were going to be some things going on along those lines anyway. Sorry, I'm just thinking out loud…. Hope you liked it….

PLEASE REVIEW!!!


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